Take Two
by mystical pine forest
Summary: One-shots and drabbles of tributes I've submitted that have perished in various Hunger Games. One chapter per tribute. Inspired by Caleb (IVolunteerAsAuthor) and Pi (AmericanPi)
1. Oren Harper

_"The word "love" was never really lovely to me- when I hear "love", I see a puke green. Maybe that's why I've never had a girlfriend."_

* * *

Hello, and welcome to my humble abode. My name is Oren Harper. I'm seventeen years old. I have synesthesia. And I am the Victor of the Seventy-Ninth Hunger Games.

What? What's that? You didn't know I can see colors when you say words? Oh, yes. The word "pencil" for example, is a light lavender with apple-red spots. And don't ask how I know that. It's always just been my thing.

I won the Hunger Games. You know that, right? Oh, of course you do. That's obvious. Everyone in Panem knows my name. Oren Harper. The one who killed his District Partner. Ah, Aileen. She was a strange girl, you know that? Her name was a bumblebee yellow, but instead of the fuzzy black stripes of the honeybee, it had the black racing stripes of a wasp. And how fitting that was! She was nice on the outside, honey-sweet, but once you peeled back that layer she was sharp as a wasp sting.

I don't know how I managed to kill her. I really don't. One second, the dagger was in my hand, the next, it was in her chest. It happened so fast.

Don't look at me like that! I'm still like you. I'm just a child, a child of but sixteen. Yes, two other children have died at my hand, but why does everyone make such a huge deal of it? No one does this to the Careers when they win. They're celebrated in their District, their partner put to shame. So why do we Sixes condemn our Victors?

Come in. It's cold out there. Let's warm you up. Do you drink coffee? I have the finest brands. Beans from Eleven enhanced with cinnamon and spices, cream from Ten, sugar from Nine and Eleven. Oh, you don't want any? Well, you will in a few minutes.

Sit. Why are you here? Are you a reporter, here to interview me? Because if you are, there's the door. Are you a librarian, here to tell me my books are overdue? If you are, my books are all in, you have the wrong Oren.

But I don't think you're either. You are young, I can see. Young and scared. Scared of my home? Scared of socializing? Scared of... me?

The Reaping. Ah, I see. Trust me, I know. I was always scared of the Reaping too. I worried for Hover, my best friend. I worried for Finnley, my sister. And most of all, I worried for myself.

And when the escort- Lance, blue with gold stripes- pulled out my name, I thought my life was over. Literally and figuratively.

I was wrong.

Kid, your life doesn't end until you want it to. If you keep strong, if you stay positive, you will live on forever, even after you "die". If you are negative, skittish, afraid of every little thing, you may as well just plunge a knife into your chest right here, right now. Even then, you'll live, not "in the hearts of your friends and family" like they say, but in the flowers that bloom in the spring, in the apples that fall from trees in the autumn, in the fresh powder that coats the trees in winter. You're forever a part of the world.

And that, my dear child, is what kept me going during my Games.

So. Are you feeling better yet? Good. Now, before you leave, I have a special treat for you. No, it's not the coffee, though isn't that good? Tell me your name.

Annika. What a pretty name for a pretty girl. And I'm not just saying that.

Sterling silver with a baby pink residue. It's gorgeous. One of the prettiest I've seen in a while. And usually, when I have a gorgeous name picture, the person to go along with it has a great personality. I think that holds strong.

Let me walk you to the door. Thank you for coming to see me, Annika. Come back whenever you like. I have lots more to say, and sadly, no one to say it to.

And Annika?

A little bird told me you'll be fine at the Reaping this weekend.

* * *

 _Name: Oren Harper_  
 _District: 6_  
 _Gender: Male_  
 _Age in Original Story: 16_  
 _Original Story: The Garden of Roses by Reader Castellan_  
 _Training Score: 3_  
 _Original Placement: 20th of 24, killed by Cecelia Vertigo_

* * *

 **Well, looky here, another story. I thought since it's my birthday I'd take some time to write for myself, and this is the result. I'm hoping to do one of these for each of my dead tributes, but there's like 25 of them so this story could take some time. I hope you enjoyed, though. :)**

 **See you next time!**


	2. Erin O'Malley

_"Yeah, I'm a Feminazi. Because wanting women to be equal to men is just like invading Poland."_

* * *

I'm Erin O'Malley, age fourteen, from Riverton, Utah, feminist. Don't give me that look.

I've always been a feminist. I believe that women should be equal to men, girls should be equal to boys, and that no husband should have the right to abuse their wife or daughter.

I've been called some dirty names. Feminazi, douchebag, the works. But what the people calling me those names don't get is that I also believe that men should be equal to women, boys should be equal to girls, and that no wife should have the right to abuse their husband or son.

See, I believe in equality for everyone. I'm not just a feminist, I'm an equal rights activist. And the best way for me to show that off is by rallying for women's rights, becuase, right now, that is what needs to be rallied about.

All over the world, there are girls and women being treated as less than human. In India, most girls never go to school. In some places in Nepal, girls who are menstruating are forced to sleep in sheds outside and are not allowed to have any contact with male members of their families. And even here in America, gender bias and prejudice against women is prominent.

Believe me, if the same things were happening to men, I would be rallying for men's rights. I would pick up a sign promoting men as fast as I currently do for women. And I would stand up to anyone who said otherwise, just like I do for women.

I'm impulsive. In my humble opinion, it's my fatal flaw. It's why I'm here in juvie. It's a long story, but honestly, I've got plenty of time to tell it. After all, what am I supposed to do here?

It was a sunny April day last year, at a rally in Salt Lake City. You know those, right? Who doesn't? Anyone in Salt Lake Valley does. I was carrying my sign, swept along by the crowd, lost from my mom. I actually still don't know exactly where she was when this happened.

This man with a black suit on and a blond beard came up to me when I stopped for a water break.

"Hey, kid, what're you doing?"

I smiled politely at the man. "I am protesting for women's rights in the state of Utah, the country of America, and the world."

The man rolled his eyes. "Ooooh. You're a Feminazi."

I don't really know what happened after that. I was told I jumped on the man, hit him with my sign, punched him a couple times. My sisters Sinead and Fianna had to pull me off him. The police were there, they took us both into custody, yadda yadda yadda. I was charged with assault and, well, now I'm here and not protesting like I'd like to be.

Yeah, I know it's not nearly as flashy as, say, Myra over there. She's a druggie. And Katherine, she was charged with carrying an illegal weapon. But it's my story, and you know what, you better respect me for it.

All right. Good talk. Now, they're ringing the dinner bell- wanna go get some food? You're new here. If you want, I can be your friend.

Nice to meet you, Maria. Let's go get some food.

* * *

 _Name: Erin O'Malley_  
 _State: Utah_  
 _Gender: Female_  
 _Age in Original Story: 15_  
 _Original Story: The Home of the Brave by Red Roses1000_  
 _Training Score: N/A_  
 _Original Placement: 3rd of 24, kill credited to Alika Levin_

* * *

 **I am having so much fun with this story, omg! Erin was one of my favorites, and it sucks that I didn't get to see her written all the way, but Rose did great with her. I hope you enjoyed!**


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